Coming Undone
by Alive At Last
Summary: His parents felt that moving to the United States would mend their broken marriage, but everything went down in flames, leaving him to deal with the aftermath.
1. Chapter 1

**Coming Undone  
Chapter 1  
Rating: **T  
**Pairing: **None  
**Summary: **His parents felt that moving to the United States would mend their broken marriage, but everything went down in flames, leaving him to deal with the aftermath.  
**A/N:** I'm a member of The Outsiders RPG as Steve. This is in the POV of my most popular OC, William Gordon.

--

"Out!" my father screeched at me, planting his boot into my ass and kicking my out of the house, literally. I sprawled onto the porch, my keys flying onto the lawn. My face was pressed against the porch for a few moments, which crushed my cigarette, before I picked myself up. The bruises on my body were throbbing from the unwelcome fall. A slight groan escaped through my parted lips. I was a mess. I traced my lips with my tongue, feeling the split in it and tasting the blood. Arsehole.

I staggered on my feet for a few moments before getting steady. My eyes narrowed in his direction. Gregory was fixing his glasses on his nose, and then he ran his hand through his graying hair. That was a habit I picked up from him. A bad habit. I needed to stop doing anything that that I picked up from that bastard standing in front of me. For a while me and him just met eyes. I examined him, something I hadn't done in quite a long time. His face was long and hard, eyes blue and hair dark gray and thinning. Wrinkles lined the side of his nose and his mouth, over his chin where an old scar was, and around his eyes that fit neatly under his glasses. From just looking at him, someone would think of him as a simple, older man, nearing his mid-fifties. But I knew the other side of him. I knew what he did to my mother, to Charlie, and to myself.

And he did it all for pleasure. All for fucking pleasure. I knew it. That was the only reason. He drank and got angry, knocked me or my mother around, then once he felt the pleasure of his inflicted wounds, he did it again and again. To feel the bones crunch, to smell the blood, to see the bruises… Finally my mother got fed up with him and left. Sure, she told me when she was leaving, but then she just picked up and left. I could have gone with her if I woke up early, or stayed up that night waiting for her to make her move. But I didn't. Something inside of me told me to stay and protect her. I felt as if I owed her my life since she was the one who gave birth and protected me. Once I was fifteen, though, she stopped protecting me, figuring I was old enough to take care of myself. There was anger and fury inside of me for that, but I didn't let it show. My emotions were bottled up and secure. I'd bet anything that if I let them out, I'd either go on a rampage and kill someone, or I'd sit in a dark place and cry my eyes out. Either was pitiful enough.

Finally Gregory up and slammed the door in my face. From behind the new barrier, I heard his voice cursing me to bloody hell. Well, good for him. But it pissed me off. What a way to say 'Good morning.' It was more like, 'Get your shit and get out so I don't have to see your face.' Fine with me. I was planning on it anyways. Edith and I both were. It was a good thing she was at a friend's house. Marcia's house to be exact. Everyone knew that I had only eyes for her. No matter how many other girls threw themselves at me, or how many I dated, they all knew that I only liked Marcia. And Marcia knew that too. My only problem was with Randy. He was in my way. Sure, I had other problems all together, but he was the main one.

Angrily I launched forward and let loose on the door. I punched and kicked and kneed and elbowed and bumped into it with my hip and everything else I could possibly do. I had no clue was I was going to accomplish with that. It made me feel good. That was all that mattered. And as I hit the wooden door, and I heard the splintering of the wood, I threw chains of cursed into the air to rebut against Gregory. He deserved it. I knew I should have killed him when I had the chance. But I had to be stopped. Gail and her complaining, and the other boy there too. He had to pull me from my goal. My arm was right against Gregory's throat. Gregory had stopped struggling. Gregory was about to fucking die. And I was pulled away.

I stopped unleashing against the door. It didn't splinter as much as I wanted it to. However, it did leave a nice faded marking with red drops of blood in the middle. That was good enough for me. I shook my hands, the blood dripping from the torn and broken skin. It gave a sort of thrill, almost like Gregory's pleasure, to unleash against something, anything. Maybe that was why Dallas Winston and I tolerated each other enough to fight but never really cause too much damage to the other. I wouldn't know about him, but I personally enjoyed our fights. Fights always thrilled me. And I heard about Rumbles around here, but I had never been 'blessed' to fight in one. Maybe one of these days, though. I hoped I would.

Tulsa wasn't as cold as it was in London around this time. Normally, the beginning of January was some of the coldest it would get. This, on other hands, was warm and comfortable compared to that. It was a nice change. I rubbed my hand up my biceps on my left arm, then scowled at the door before turning on my heels and retrieving my keys. Then I made my way over to my motorcycle. It was old and needed repairs, but it ran just fine for me.

I needed to go see Eddie. Something inside of me wanted to go talk to Eddie. I don't know what it was, though. Since the time she came to live with me, I feel like we've grown fond of each other. I know for sure I'm fond of her. And I would even be willing to call her my sister instead of my cousin.

Edith came to live with me a month or so ago. She was my younger cousin. Her mother had died from a robbery gone wrong. The man came in and found Stephanie downstairs. He proceeded to kill her, in which Stephanie didn't make a single sound. It was to protect Eddie. Eddie's father works in the military. He was the one who made Charlie want to join. And Charlie did join as soon as he was old enough. So since Eddie's father was useless to her, she went to stay with Edward, our grandfather. But he was sick and died after a few months. Patrick, Edith's father, sent Gregory, my father, a letter and all the paperwork for Edith to come live with me. And why I say me and not us, it's because Gregory wasn't the most thoughtful, caring person in the world. If she lived under him, she'd be miserable. At least if she lived under me, I'd try to make her happy. And it took a lot to remember that she was only a year or so behind me in age. I think it was her short stature that made me think that constantly.

I mounted my bike and turned the engine on. It sputtered then roared to life. I smirked, revving the engine a little before backing out of the lawn. This was one thing Gregory couldn't take of mine. He had already taken my mum and Charlie, but this, he couldn't touch. This was mine. I turned onto the street and sped off, anxious to get away from that house. That broken home. That hell house. I was done with all the shit I put up with living with that man. It had been eighteen years. And that was eighteen years too long to stay with him. I was done.

As I rode down the empty road, I felt the cool wind hit my face and smelt the winter air. God, I loved that smell and that feeling. I was tempted to close my eyes and just enjoy it. But that wouldn't be a good idea, after all my life was in my own hands on this thing.

I came up to Marcia's house soon enough. I'd met her parents a few times. They didn't take too kind that I was a River King and all, but I think my personality and the fact I didn't act like those other greasers around here won them over. So it was alright for me to just stop by. Plus, Eddie was over here and it was alright.

I stopped my bike and killed the engine, dismounting and jogging up to the front door. I knocked on the door roughly, then shoved my hands in my pockets. I ached for a cigarette, but Eddie was on this 'no smoking' idea and 'no drinking' idea. She was killing me. But I smoked whenever I wasn't around her. Unlike now, though.

Marcia's mother came to the door and asked what I wanted. I asked to see Edith. She eyed me, then moved aside to let me in. I nodded politely and walked in. She told me that they were in Marcia's room. Again, I nodded, then scurried up the stairs. I turned at the top and looked into the room. Sure enough, there Marcia and Edith were sitting. Edith looked up at me with big brown eyes, surprised to see me. Marcia also looked surprised.

"Will?" Eddie asked. "What are you… What happened to your face?"

She jumped to her feet and ran over to me, standing on her toes and pressing her hands to my cheeks. Her thumb prodded my split lip. I just waited until she was finished examining me.

"It was Uncle Gregory," I told her, using her term of affection for him.

"What did he do?"

Even though Eddie had lived with me for over a month, she still didn't know about what he did. If she saw me bruised and battered, I'd claim getting in a fight. Then she'd go off on me and tell me that it was wrong to fight, and I'd just shrug it off. Marcia, however, knew what went on at home. I had spilled to her about it one day in the bathroom. Long story short, I was about to die and she helped me go to the bathroom so I could empty my stomach. Two-Bit was there, but he only hurt more than help. The fuck punched me in the stomach, and that day I was covered in bruises.

"I… We…" I stammered, finding it hard to tell Eddie the truth. I blinked. Why was is so hard to talk to her about it? Was it because I wanted to protect her? I wanted to keep her from seeing the real life I lived? I think I was it. I kept looking at her, and her eyes softened even more. I pressed my hand onto her shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze.

"It's nothing," I said finally, letting out a small sigh. I brought my arms around her, hugging her close and putting my chin on the top of her head. My eyes closed and I sighed again, just holding her close. Even a guy like me needed to grab hold onto someone for a while. I opened my eyes and released Eddie after a moment. "Nothing."

Which was a lie. It was something. Something big, in my eyes. But to Edith, it didn't concern her and she didn't need to know. I'd tell her one day. Hopefully I'd get the courage to tell her before she becomes his victim too.

I ran my hand over the back of her neck, pulling her forward. I bent slightly at my knees and pressed my lips softly to her forehead for a brief moment. Then I pulled back and gave her my best false grin.

"Then why did you come here?" Edith asked.

My shoulders shrugged. Eddie's fingers were wrapped around my sleeve as if she didn't want me to go. It was almost as if she knew I was lying through my teeth. And for all I knew, she did. I brushed her fingertips from my shirt.

"I'll be back later," I told her, turning and heading for the door. Behind me Edith made a sound of protest, but I ignored it and continued on my way. I didn't know where I was going, but it was anywhere but home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Coming Undone  
****Chapter 2  
****Rating: **T  
**Pairing: **None  
**Summary: **His parents felt that moving to the United States would mend their broken marriage, but everything went down in flames, leaving him to deal with the aftermath.  
**A/N:** Thanks to the lovey lady who beta'd this chapter, **_fullofmetal_**. Much love.

--

I pulled up in front of Buck's, stopping and killing my engine. For a while I just sat there, resting my elbows on the handles and rubbed my hands over my face. I was tired. It had been a long time since I had a good night's sleep. Maybe it was that last night before my mum left. Or when Edith first came. I didn't remember very well. My head was spinning, so I shoved my hand in my pocket and pulled out the little, white pill bottle.* I popped the top off of it and shook out a couple into the palm of my hand. I eyed them before tossing them in my mouth and swallowing them hard. That would keep me awake for a while. Then I shook my head, replacing the cap on the bottle and putting it in my pocket.

After dismounting my bike, I saw a blue car pull up. Two-Bit stepped out of the car and the shoved his keys into his jacket. Then he looked at me. Two-Bit was one of the first people that I had talked to when I first arrived from London. My first day at school, and already the teachers hated me. I was late to class and I used profanity and smoked in the hallway and… just everything about me they hated. So I was sent to detention where Two-Bit and this pretty blonde were. I think her name was Kathy or something. But she was a bird.

Lately there had been some static between me and Two-Bit. I had taken his girl, Amber, out to the movies once, and he didn't really appreciate that. We'd been avoiding each other for a while now. I guessed he didn't want to fight me as much as I didn't want to fight him. But now, he was standing in front of me and looking a little angry.

"Two-Bit," I greeted with a nod.

He walked up to me and looked me in the eye, his head tilted ever-so-slightly. Something told me he had the intent to make me seem smaller than him. It wasn't working. I'd been fighting Dallas Winston for the past two or so months. I was sure I could handle Two-Bit. But, then again, this was about a girl. Dallas and I never fought over a girl.

"Gordon," he finally said, eyes locked on mine.

"I don't want to fight," I told him, still sore from this morning.

Two-Bit just stared at me. Then, as if remembering the time I was sick in the bathroom, he nodded.

"Neither do I."

I gave a small grin, but his hard glare never left his face and he stayed put. Suddenly, he grabbed my shoulder and threw a punch into my stomach. It was hard and fast. I didn't expect it, so I hadn't had time to clench my muscles against it. I fell to my knees, holding my stomach and coughing. God damn it hurt. Shakily, I looked up at him.

"Just keep your fuckin' paws off of her, and we'll be good."

Alright, so that was a warning punch. Fair enough. I nodded with a slight shrug of one shoulder. I saw his hand in front of my face, offering to help me up. Two-Bit was a strange one, but a good enough friend. He knew when you needed a punch in the gut, but he'll help you up afterwards. I laughed and grabbed his hand, allowing myself to be helped up. He gave me a smile and patted me on the back.

"As long as we have an understanding," he said. At the end, he added, "You man-whore."

I laughed a little. "Get out of here, you bum."

Two-Bit turned and headed for the door, but stopped and looked over his shoulder. "Oh, keep an eye out. Steve is looking for you," he told me. Then he walked inside.

Steve Randle had a bone to pick with me because I took his girl Evie to homecoming. It wasn't my fault entirely. He was working overtime and I had asked her because Marcia was going with Randy. I hadn't known she had a boyfriend. So now Randle wants to beat my head in too. It seemed like most of the Curtis gang was after my head or something. But I could live with that. It made life a little exciting.

Finally I went inside, going to the bar. Buck was behind the counter, waiting for me and trying to clean a glass with a dirty dishrag. Most of the customers were taken care of. Well, that was a given because it was still early, and not many people were drinking this time of day. Normally the ones who were here this time of day were the ones left over from last night, or the ones with a room. At least it helped me get some money in my pocket, considering I pay for myself and Edith around the house. Gregory didn't do shit for us. But I was used to it.

"You're early," Buck commented as I walked behind the bar.

I grabbed a stool and perched on it next to Buck. I grabbed myself a glass and a stained rag and began to clean it. "Yeah," I said simply.

He must have noticed my wince and the dried blood under my nose. "Rough mornin'?" he asked.

"Yeah."

I absentmindedly rubbed my knuckles at my nose, seeing the blood that transferred. Damn Gregory.

"It's nothing," I said, more to myself than to him. Buck wasn't persistent. If you told him things were fine, he'd leave it at that. If you told him things weren't fine, he'd leave it at that too. It made things a whole lot easier for him, I figured.

I pulled out a long, black cigarette and lit it right as I heard someone come stomping down the stairs. I craned my neck to see who it was and sneered when I saw him. Dallas fucking Winston. A dream come true. I think the same thought ran across his mind, because he had an annoyed look directed towards me. As he came up to the bar, his nose crinkled up.

"I should have known it was you," he said. "It reeks in here."

Most of the guys around here knew me because I smelled like clove cigarettes. No one here liked the smell. But I always smoked them when I had the chance. However, since my brother died, I had cut back on the amount of cloves I smoked and moved to menthols. So there was no way I smelled like cloves now. I think he was just trying to start something.

"Yeah?" I questioned, taking a hit and blowing the smoke at him. "I only reek when I smoke these. What's your excuse, blondie?"

Dally clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes at me. "You're cruisin' for a bruisin'," he warned me, pulling out a stool with a loud screech and sitting heavily on it.

"Thanks, but I already got mine today."

This was now it normally went between us. Exchange a few insults, then probably lead into a fight or something, and sometimes Buck was in the background protesting about breaking another chair. By now this was a routine. I think he liked picking fights with me because I actually fought back, and put up a pretty good fight nonetheless. Not many people went against Dally around here. It was something about him being from New York and being way too wild. Tim Shepard was the only one, besides me, brave enough to fight him. Either that was bravery, or stupidity. I couldn't quite figure that one out yet.

Dallas flared his nostrils and gave a brisk nod. "Yeah."

This was one of those rare occasions when he didn't want a fight. Fine with me. I probably couldn't defend myself like I usually did, considering the condition I was in at the moment.

Then I yawned. Yep, that sucked. I was about ready to give up on my amphetamines. After a prolonged use of them, my body was beginning to build an immunity to them, and it would be pointless to keep taking them if they did nothing for my narcolepsy.** I pinched a nerve that was between my thumb and forefinger, trying to keep myself awake. After all, I had work to do and I couldn't slack. If I slacked, I got a pay reduction.

"Want anything?" I asked Dallas since he was just sitting there, glancing around and looking incredibly bored.

Dallas scratched at the nape of his neck, and then patted his hand on the bar. "Beer."

I was about to comment about it being early, but then I remembered the old phrase, 'It's five o'clock somewhere,' and fished one out of the cooler. Dallas took it and popped the top off on the bar, the usual bottle opener. That was why the bar was so dented and chipped. Buck hated it, but rarely did anything to stop it.

I got up and when on a hunt for a Coke or a water. Buck had them, but not in sight. And the Cokes that were in sight were used for the drinks, like rum and Coke, something Two-Bit's kid sister, Jane, enjoyed the most. Sometimes I worried about the kid, but not too hard. After all, she was sixteen. But, on the other hand, it made me wonder about Edith. That's what happens when you're forced into taking care of a fifteen year old. You turn into a father figure. I still thought, however, her whole 'No smoking, no drinking' rule was too much. How can I not drink when I work at a fucking bar? She must not have thought that one through, because I sure as hell wasn't quitting.

I came back with my Coke, sitting on the stool and rubbing my hand over my stomach. Right now, I was fucked up. My father was moody, Two-Bit wanted to make sure I 'kept my paws off of Amber', and Steve was looking for me. At least Dallas was content without pounding my face in. That was a plus to my horrid day.

As I sipped my Coke, someone banged through the front door. I glanced at the person and mentally winced. Steve Randle.

Already? It was still morning and he chose now to come find me? I took another swig of Coke, staring at him as he approached me. His hair was fixed in complicated swirls. That was certainly original.

"Hey, buddy," Steve greeted Dallas. Dallas gave a nod and took a drink of beer. Then Steve glanced at me. "Outside. Now."

Okay, now he was ordering me. I shook my head and finished my Coke, glaring at him from the top of my can.

"Rejected," I told him firmly.

Steve's eyes narrowed, and his arms crossed over his chest. He glared at me, not taking a liking to my immediate rejection. "It wasn't an offer, _pal_," he spat at me.

"Sounded like one to me, _mate_," I retorted right back.

Swiftly, he grabbed my by my collar and pulled me over the bar. My stomach dug into the wood, making me groan. Fucking Two-Bit.

"Outside in five minutes. If not, I'll come back and drag you out."

"Hey," Buck warned from beside me. "Don't be fuckin' up my bar, Randle."

Steve shot a look at Buck and released my shirt. I settled my feet back on the floor, and I tenderly ran my hand over my throbbing stomach. Then Steve sneered at me and turned.

"Five minutes."

With that, he left the bar. I groaned, looking at Buck.

"Is he serious?" I asked.

"I've learned not to ask questions," Buck said, busying himself with a dirty glass and a dirty rag. No wonder this place was going downhill.

--

* - "White pill bottle": **Amphetamine:** a psychostimulant drug that is known to produce increased wakefulness and focus in association with decreased fatigue and appetite.

** - **Narcolepsy:** a chronic sleep disorder, or dyssomnia. The condition is characterized by excessive daytime sleepiness in which a person experiences extreme fatigue and possibly falls asleep at inappropriate times.


End file.
